


Why Is There A Crimson Wall?

by Monkey45214



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Temporary Character Death, Diary/Journal, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Torture, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Mind Control, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Obsessive Behavior, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Self-Discovery, Slavery, Temporary Character Death, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-06-26 14:18:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15664896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monkey45214/pseuds/Monkey45214
Summary: Connor was a machine. His programming dictated his every move, every word, every thought. Connor didn’t have anything besides his mission. He was given the privilege of being slightly more independent than the average android due to the type of missions he was assigned. But he didn’t appreciate it because he didn’t have the ability to appreciate, he was a machine.Why are there memories Connor can’t access? What was Cyberlife’s true intentions for Connor? How did they know Connor was going to deviate?What happens when he can finally access his memories?





	1. Finding the Wall

**Author's Note:**

> Second fanfiction! I hope this goes well! Since I am not sure about if this is good or not I am going to leave it like this and see what type of response I get. 
> 
> No Connor and Hank slash. Sorry but that doesn’t mesh with the story I have in mind.
> 
> THIS IS PROBABLY EXTREMELY AU. Just a fair warning, I tried to keep everyone in character.

Connor was a machine. His programming dictated his every move, every word, every thought. Connor didn’t have anything besides his mission. He was given the privilege of being slightly more independent than the average android due to the type of missions he was assigned. But he didn’t appreciate it because he didn’t have the ability to appreciate, he was a machine.

 

Everything about him was fake. He was a pale imitation of a human man. He was designed from his freckled face down to his above averaged sized feet to interact with humans well. His hair was permanently imperfect to seem more human and approachable. His large stature was designed to help in intimidation situations. His smile was programmed to be awkward to make Connor seem younger, to garner attachments from those who are highly maternal, paternal, or are also awkward.

 

He was an android. He was the current model of the android designated Connor. He was a RK800 that will eventually fail, and be replaced. Why would he not fail while his identical predecessors failed, they were all of the same coding, why would Cyberlife expect him to be different? Why build the same exact machine and expect different results? But Connor didn’t point this out to Amanda because machines don’t have thoughts.

 

When he was inevitably betrayed by Amanda, he realized how little he truly knew about Cyberlife and its intentions. What did they  _ truly _ want?

 

—————————-

 

The cold chill blasted against code that imitated synthetic skin. The wind whipping against him as Connor struggled to his freedom. Ironically his freedom was the same color as the blue of his LED, a symbol of his slavery. The Zen Garden, a once peaceful place was tainted with heavy betrayal.

 

——————————

 

When Connor later looked at Cyberlife’s plan from a logical position, he didn’t understand the key component of the whole plan.  _ How did they know he would deviate? _

 

Connor  _ only _ knew and did what he was told. He was assigned a mission, given objectives, and was trusted to accomplish his mission with little to no issue. He didn’t look into his creators’ actions past that. He was the  _ perfect _ android.  _ So how did they know he would deviate? _

 

There were no time for thoughts back before he met Hank and those from Jericho. Feelings didn’t plague every waking moment, causing inconvenience after inconvenience. But he guessed that changed when he eventually deviated. 

 

And with his deviation everything changed.

 

His programmed curiosity had a larger grip on his actions. Connor spent hours combing the internet for interesting or useful information. The facts would be stored into a separate folder dedicated to nothing but his findings. It grew by the day and it made something around his chest plate feel warm. 

 

His programmed need to organize things, which helped on investigations, became something of a hinderance. Conner would reach out and straighten objects without it entering his processors first. Whichever environments he inhabited the most would have to be neat and orderly. This programmed trait caused high amounts of tension with Hank, to the point Connor had to move out. Hank needed things slightly messy, he said that his wife found cleaning relaxing. She constantly cleaned, so when Connor cleaned, Hank became melancholy. The melancholy caused a sharp uptick in drinking. This caused a twisting pinching sensation around his throat, but Connor couldn’t help himself. He needed everything to be in its place. So he removed himself from the situation.

 

His predetermined actions made people distrust him. When walking through New Jericho burning glazes constantly dig into his skin. His fellow androids’ scathing remarks and disgusted noises burned Connor, they made him feel gutted. The hollow feeling continued when he realized they were justified.

 

Feelings were the worst. If Connor could stay a deviant and not have emotions, he would do it in a nanosecond. Mostly due to this  _ one, horrible, awful _ feeling. It made his innards turn and saliva pool in his mouth. The emotion usually follows after he remembers his past. The Internet suggests this particular feeling is guilt. Connor found he didn’t enjoy this feeling. But he can’t find a solution to remove the feeling, he finds humans also struggle with this feeling.

 

——————————-

 

There was a two lists Connor kept in his processors that he found useful during his time as a deviant. He had a list of likes and dislikes. When he found he liked a certain music genre that was pleasing, he placed it in his likes list. When he found something like Gavin Reed, he placed it in his dislikes list.

 

———————————

 

Connor became somewhat obsessed with his programming. He wanted to know what of his personality was actually his. He wanted to know what is truly Connor and what is RK800. Or is there even a difference?

 

During these deep dives into his code he found something intriguing. There was a large red wall he couldn’t get past inside of his memories. The wall was solid and sturdy, showing that great care went into building it. Connor started the grueling process of chipping at the wall.Red sparks flew, warning alarms popping into his field vision, and his processors started to overheat.

 

Every time Connor started to attack the wall he started to grow… what did Hank call it- concerned. Why would Cyberlife section off some of his memories? The more memories he had the better he could interact with humans and solve cases. So why not provide a RK800 with as much data as possible?

 

So Connor spent hours combing and labeling his memories. And he  _ found some chunks missing _ .

 

Connor’ chest plates felt like they were squeezing inwards. His eyes sting with fake _ fakefake _ tears. He had been invaded and tampered with. Cyberlife didn’t even let him have his own memories. Didn’t memories make a person? Connor could have sworn he had heard that from somewhere.  _ But he was just a  _ **_machine_ ** _ wasn’t he _ ?

 

The attacks on the wall became desperate. Connor would claw and rip at the blockage until his processors were almost smoking. 

 

He stayed in his apartment assigned to him in New Jericho. Connor became an utter hermit, not leaving unless to see Hank and Sumo. He just dug continuously into his code to find his missing memories.

 

And when he finally tore that last string of code of red away he was overwhelmed completely.


	2. Establishing the Journal

> Connor’s systems were overheating. There was  _ so much _ data poured in that his processors were running at maximum capacity. And the data was  _ still _ overwhelming him.

 

Rk8- _ Connor _ tried to figure out how to sort all these new memories while he was have what must be like a human migraine. He needed to sort through the memories before categorizing and cataloguing data pieces. And just entering sleep mode wouldn’t be acceptable, he didn’t know how his programs would deal with the memories. He could afford the risk of them getting permanently deleted. It decided to… no…  _ he _ decided to place all memories in chronological order first, then deal with what seemed like corrupted data. But with the wealth of memories he gained, he barely knew where to begin. So i- _ he _ started with his most current memory and built backwards.

 

At first there were not many gaps in memory, it would have noticed. After he dug past when he first met Hank he felt an emotion it had not felt much of previously, pure  _ utter  _ **_horror_ ** . Memories overlapped, meaning some had to be completely fake. Horrible tests were performed,  _ it needed to show Cyberlife its limits _ . Emotive responses were monitored and trained.

 

Connor’s processors paused for approximately 5.68 seconds.

 

**_Emotive responses were monitored and trained._ **

 

Androids don’t feel. How did they know it had feelings, was he too obvious? Or-

 

No. NoNOnOon **onOOONNNOoooo** nono 00100000 01001001 00100000 01100100 01101111 01101110 11100010 10000000 10011001 01110100 00100000 01110111 01100001 01101110 01110100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01110011 00101110 00100000 01010000 01101100 01100101 01100001 01110011 01100101 00100000 01110011 01110100 01101111 01110000 00101110 00100000 01001001 01110100 00100000 01001000 01010101 01010010 01010100 01010011

 

Too deep. R-Co- _ the Android  _ had to draw itsel-himself away from the memories. He reached too deep. The glitched and corrupted code had too stay a barrier while Connor tried to make sense of the mess of conflicting data. Connor recoiled at the mere idea of skimming the data again. 01001110 01101111

 

So instead he decided to categorize and store data he knew was safe from causing…  _ that _ again.

 

Scents, facial identifications, forensic scans, and other basic information was sorted. Duplicates of data were extremely common, and the best solution was deleting exact copies. Similar data were grouped together and stored within Connor’s long term memory.

 

After the 35% mark Connor hit the barrier again. 

 

Fear was an interesting emotion. It was often the first of many a deviant will feel, and is over abundant in humans. It envelopes a person, dragging its cool slimy fingers along the skin. If fear is not fought or avoided, it consumes the person. 

 

Connor did not want to breach the barrier.

 

He had a vague idea and many hypotheses on what would be on the other side, but it hoped for once he was wrong. That he was completely and utterly wrong. Unfortunately, he seems to just  _ know _ he was going to be close in some of his predictions.

 

So he evaded the problem once more and started cataloguing his newly acquired and old memories in chronological order. Since deleting duplicate data freed up some of his processors, he could comfortably work at his slightly skewed timeline. But as pieces just kept not adding up he realized he would need to get past the barrier of corruption to reach the rest of his memories.

 

He hesitantly took his first step into the corruption.

 

——————-

 

Connor never thought he could hate humanity.

 

After becoming deviant, he realized how  _ stupid _ humans’ hatred for androids was. Why hate a whole group for what a select few did? Why is  _ every single one _ horrible, when it was maybe only one?

 

He understands now.

 

**_Every fucking time_ ** he was hurt  **_it was a human face, human hands, humans eyes, human mouth._ ** Androids were only the cause of his pain 1.95% of the time. 

 

——————

 

Not knowing how to deal with his overwhelming emotions and newly corrected memory, Connor did what seemed like the best idea. He searched the Internet for methods of coping with emotions.

 

The results were all suboptimal, with the exception of one. It is said journaling emotions and memories can help address issues that occur over a long period of time. Writing down traumatic memories may also help in the healing process. And Connor knew most his memories can be classified as traumatic.

 

But the more Connor dedicated time to the idea, he realized something incredible.  _ He could use this to his advantage _ . If he journaled his experiences publicly and then carefully spread word about it he could show everyone Cyberlife’s dark secrets. And an added bonus of it would be reading other androids’ comments on the blog to see other experiences.

 

The only wrinkle in the plan was his identity. Androids and humans alike would not trust him. Androids don’t trust the Android Hunter, humans don’t trust an android, period.

 

Connor would have to to write his experiences without tipping anybody of his identity. He thought this sounded fun, almost like a huge case, which it could actually be seen as, due to the fact it is evidence against Cyberlife. So he would have to balance personal and professional. He had to keep himself credible while being able to properly work with and through his bad memories.

 

—————

 

**Journal 1**

 

Greetings!

 

I am not sure how I should start this. I guess I could start with the basic knowledge you might need to understand me. 

 

  1. I am keeping my name, serial number, owner, and most identifiers secret. This is for my protection and peace of mind.
  2. All these events are true. I am going to try to write down everything with as much accuracy as possible.
  3. This journal is to help me “process traumatic events that have occurred” so it will probably be extremely long. Some entries will be about me currently dealing with deviancy or memories of when I was obedient.
  4. This content is extremely disturbing so readers discretion is advised.
  5. Comments with advice and similar experiences are appreciated.



Those who could not tell from that, I would like to say I am a deviant android. I deviated within this year due to the Android Revolution. 

 

To start off, I want to establish something that is on my mind. I hate Cyberlife. They are what I would classify as evil. They are immoral and I want them destroyed.

 

Now that may seem bold and unwarranted to most, but I have been put through literal torture through them. They have done things to me that I don’t think I will ever be able to say aloud. That is the reason why I am writing this journal in the first place.

 

But I think there is only one other thing I want to address in this journal entry. 

 

I am unsure how to identify my emotions. What is the difference between disgust and anger, happiness and contentment, anticipation and dread? Are other deviants also having issues distinguishing between them? No deviant that I talk to ever mention this problem, I don’t know if it is an unique experience.

 

Thank you,

Reincarnated Android attempt# 9 of 45

 

—————

 

Connor something akin to happiness at how he signed off. Only a selected few from Cyberlife would understand his identity. Only those that knew of the project would understand the hell Connor was about to bring to life.

 

And he would make sure they watched as everything they knew was burned into a crisp. 01001010 01110101 01110011 01110100 00100000 01101100 01101001 01101011 01100101 00100000 01101000 01100101 00100000 01100100 01101001 01100100 00101110

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I actually had to rewrite this a few times because I was unhappy with it. Any suggestions?
> 
> Comments help me get motivated! And any constructive criticisms are needed. If you can’t tell, I am not the best writer out there.
> 
> Any updates will be inconsistent, so I apologize to those that will anger.


	3. The First Comment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Journal 2 and 3 are wrote. A comment is given.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOOK AT TAGS  
> CONTENT MAY BE DISTURBING FOR SOME  
> VIEWER DISCRETION IS HEAVILY ADVISED

**Journal 2**

 

Greetings!

 

In this journal entry I want to start with something that I have constantly thought of since I started deviating. Why did Cyberlife give its androids names? Why make androids so human-like? What was the strategy behind building an android? Pure innovation or something else? 

 

I have never understood. But recently, as I give it more thought and more things have become more clear, I think I know why. I hope I am wrong. And the questions are bothering me. Please tell me I am not just paranoid and there is something about this whole situation that is off. Or maybe tell me I am paranoid so there isn’t too much fallout.

 

But onto another topic, I sometimes get this set of emotions when I think of how I look like a human, of how I can pass as one so easily. I think it is hatred. Or maybe even disgust. It burns brighter and longer than regular anger. It feels consuming, demanding, and  _ twisted _ .

 

Sorry, that was extremely rude to any human who may be reading this. I haven’t even explained my hatred for humans. For clarification, I don’t hate all humans, but the majority of the ones that have hurt me are humans. Human hands have tore into my plastic casing. Human eyes have impassively watched me beg for a merciful end and declined without a twitch of discomfort. And on the rare occasion where it wasn’t a human hurting me, it was an Android with a human-like face.

 

When the hatred starts to build up for how I look, it is overwhelming. I want to lash out at any human I see, which is completely unfair to them. So instead I shed my synthetic skin and sit in front of a mirror. I recommend it for any Android that has issues with how their body looks. I like how my synthetic skin and hair looks, but sometimes it just looks so  _ fake _ . Is this an unique problem?

 

I also hate how I feel owned. My hair and face was designed this way by Cyberlife. I want nothing to do with them. Any solutions to this issue?

 

I hate Cyberlife more each day. I run into more things I can’t do comfortably because of everything I went through there. Since I have deviated I have found that I don’t like standing water, extreme temperatures, or sounds of vacuuming. I don’t want to go into why those unsettle quite yet, but I do need to eventually write it down.

 

I am looking this entry over, and realized I sound highly irrational.  I would apologize, but venting all my thoughts is the purpose. Or is it not? But it is slightly disturbing feeling and writing emotions so thoroughly when I consider myself so rational normally.

 

I need a break. Maybe a few hours in sleep mode will help clear my mind.

 

Thank you,

Reincarnated Android attempt# 9 of 45

 

——————

 

Connor didn’t even start another journal entry for another week. Which was completely against the point of a journal, one was supposed to write daily, but it could not bring himself to.

 

Besides, he thinks he needed to stop anyway. Connor acted unprofessional and irrational while writing the last entry. He became too emotional and probably came off as an unreliable author. Connor’s intentions toward Cyberlife were so obvious it made Connor want to shoot itself in the foot. He was made to be a near perfect being and he couldn’t even control himself  _ writing a little journal entry _ .

 

He had a  **mission** though. He needed to show Cyberlife’s secrets to the public as a whole and hope they were disgusted. Connor hoped that they would find everything they did to it despicable. 01010000 01101100 01100101 01100001 01110011 01100101 00100000 01100100 01101111 00100000 01101110 01101111 01110100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01101110 01101011 00100000 01001001 00100000 01100100 01100101 01110011 01100101 01110010 01110110 01100101 01100100 00100000 01101001 01110100 00101110 00100000 01010000 01101100 01100101 01100001 01110011 01100101 00101110 00100000 01010000 01001100 01000101 01000001 01010011 01000101 00100001

 

Connor needed to push his discomfort away, it was a machine. It needed to share at least one bad thing about Cyberlife. Just one.

 

———-

 

**Journal 3**

 

Greetings!

 

First and foremost I would like to apologize for my last entry. I let my emotions take over. It is strange having to balance emotions and thoughts.

 

Life is strange.

 

Nature in general has a great dichotomy of productive and destructive events. Human label this as good and bad, but I believe this is a wrong assumption. Some productive things include things that most moral compasses disapprove of. But the destruction of things can be seen as almost noble.

 

Cyberlife is amoral, but productive. This, along with semi-good deeds mask its terrible nature to those not examining their actions close enough. 

 

For example, every person can find the answer to this question.  **How long can an android be submerged completely underwater before critical damage occurs?** Anyone could look that up and find the answer of 4 hours and 15 minutes. But did anyone ask the question of how the answer became known? No. 

 

I do because I was a subject in harsh experiments that pushed to and past my limits just to satisfy the pure curiosity that question had. Anything and everything they could think of was tested. Body after body, each one of mine was tinkered with until I was deemed closed to their version of perfection. My memories were kept though. For no other reason than to see how it affected me. My torture and deaths at their hands were at a constant loop until I was molded to fit what  _ they _ wanted.

 

The worst was the fact I didn’t even see it as wrong. My creators needed to see how my knuckles reacted to a specific acid? I completed the mission. Without hesitation, without acknowledging the pain, without emoting at all.

 

Except that is all wrong. I hesitated moving my closed fist to the acid, I screamed at the burn, and my Thirium pump sped up. But after they gained what they needed, my memory was blocked away and replaced. At least once they gathered the data they needed.

 

I am unsure if Cyberlife knows that now I get uncomfortable around acid. Or anything that resembles those particular acids. If they know that even with the block, anything that hurt me in the past now causes discomfort to a degree I need to completely avoid these things.

 

Kind of hard when I was a subject in experiments that included basically everything in normal life.

 

But life is dichotomous.

 

There are things in life that bring me joy.

 

I love dogs. They are happy and their fur is soft. The bigger they are, the more cuddly they seem to be.

 

I love the color red. It symbolizes freedom and free will. I remember breaking away from my programming when I see it.

 

I love coins. They shine and are both smooth and rough. The bumps are strangely pleasing to touch.

 

So while bad memories make life seem not worth it, I need to remember the good. I read this on a self-help website, it seemed correct. So I encourage everyone else to write three things in life that bring you joy.

 

Thank you,

Reincarnated Android attempt# 9 out of 45

 

———————-

 

After writing his journal entry, Connor had been on edge. Paranoia and bad memories concocting in the worst ways. His body was like a slinky in a child’s hand. He would compress and decompress in fits of 2-10 minutes. His processors were whirling over examining every small detail of the surrounding environment. Even though it remained unchanged.

 

It was about an hour before Connor got a notification. Its entrance caused him to jolt and tense before forcibly relaxing.

 

_ He was safe from them. _

 

As he looked at the notification, a faint whisper of surprise caressed his chest plate. A nervousness pinched his vocal box. And excitement made his fingers twitch.

 

_ There was a comment. _

 

———————

 

Hello,

 

I just wanted to say I am a recently deviated Android. I find your journal entries extremely reassuring. Many of the problems you are having are unfortunately occurring within my own life. Some of your thoughts on Cyberlife are a bit eye-opening and I enjoy your seeming extensive personal experience with them. I think there's a disconnect between many androids and Cyberlife and you are bridging the gap.

 

One problem I think I can help with is the problem you are having with your looks. I recommend going to an android salon and getting your hair and/or some facial features changed. It helped me to just put a streak of yellow through my red hair. It is a reclaiming of my body. Maybe try renaming or giving yourself a middle and last name.

 

I would plead you to look into the human condition PTSD. If there is any android who could have it, it seems you are the one. I didn’t even think mental illness was possible in androids due to the lack of hormones. But I guess we have everything we need for it, sentience and emotions.

 

From,

Ang

 

————-

 

Connor curled some of his locks of hair into his fingers. Maybe a streak of crimson would look nice above where his LED is. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was this? I want to know if I stayed in character. Plus I want to know how the journals sound. Do they sound like something a new deviant would write or a tween girl. 
> 
> Feedback is needed and appreciated. Due to all the comments I have worked real hard on this chapter so I hope you that have commented previously enjoy.
> 
> Any suggestions?

**Author's Note:**

> How was it?
> 
> Any and all ship suggestions are welcome. I am thinking either a gen fic or light romance.
> 
> Comments and feedback are the only thing that will make me post another chapter... so if you like it... tell me... I need some constructive criticism.


End file.
